Category: Hope

This was from a series of posts I used to write for an old blog of mine called, The Pigeon Hole. I would secretly write down the funny and endearing things Scott would say in natural conversation and then share it on my blog. He was an incredibly sweet man and loved to tease. And I thought I’d give you a peak into a different side of him.

1.”Hey, Boo.”

2.”If you get arrested tonight, I’m gonna be pissed.”

3. Him: “You got a mouse in your pocket?”

Me: “What? No? Why?”

Him: “Cause you’re acting pretty cheesy.”

4. Me: What movie ya’ watchin?

Him: “Goblins. I’ve never seen it before.

Oh what? You think I’ve seen it? No. No no. I’m not really into this. Oh, well, yeah, I do like this type of stuff but not really. Well, not goblins anyways… Dragons. I really like dragons. Dragons better than goblins. Goblins are pretty gross.”

Me:”If you purchased $1000 of shares in Delta one year ago, you would have $49 today. If you purchased 1000 shares of AIG, you’d have $33. If you purchased $1000 if share in Lehmann Brothers, you would have $0. But, if you purchased $1000 of beer, drank all the beer, and returned the cans, you would have $214. Therefore the best current investment is to drink heavily and recycle. It is called the 401-Keg Plan.”

Him: “Ha! That’s funny.”

Me: “I thought so.”

Him: “Hey, you should comment him back and say: Did you know why they call a 401-K: 401-K? It’s because it is directly from Section 401-K of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986.”

You wouldn’t take a shower in the morning, if you didn’t have the idea to shower first. You wouldn’t be in the field of work that you’re in, unless you had a single thought to pursue it. Every task begins with an idea.

Some of our ideas are big. Really big. They urge us to fulfill a purpose that just feels “right”. I won’t even give you an example of this because right now, as you read this, you have your own example in mind. And chances are that the example you hold in your mind is thee ‘big idea’ that feels right to you.

What to know: As soon as anybody is brave enough to acknowledge his or her big idea, doubt will immediately begin its work on you.

My friend, fellow real estate agent, and mentor, Olivia Chambers, and I did a FB Live last week to discuss the topic of Doubt and its sources (*to see a replay of this go to www.facebook.com/31MainStreet ) I will now expand on the things that we discussed…

The 3 Main Sources of Doubt:

Self

Environment

Natural Obstacles and Challenges

Self Doubt — This can be the most challenging of either of the other sources of doubt, as we can’t escape ourselves. We can leave or change our environment; We can manage or prevent obstacles. While we can’t leave ourself (or get a lobotomy as Olivia jested), we can change, manage, and prevent doubt from creeping in to chisel away at our dream. It should be noted that once we master self doubt, there is no other source that can hinder us, so this is truly the most important to manage of them all. Ways to manage self doubt include…

Walk Like It, Talk Like It, Act Like It – Break it down for yourself. You are not going to conquer it all at once, but by trying simple tasks like adjusting your posture, you can transform your mind in incredible ways. The brain takes cues from the physiological actions of the body, and if you’re standing tall, then you’re doing the “walk like it” part. The “talk like it part” would be repeatedly affirming your own worth. Make so much time to speak and think positively about yourself that negativity doesn’t have space. Suffocate it. So what’s “Act Like It” then? “Act Like It” = “Walk Like It” + “Talk Like It” . Master one. Add the other. Master that. Now, you’re acting like it. Once you’re acting like it, you will be treated like ‘it’. See the domino effect?

Plow Through – You’ve heard the old saying “Feel the fear, then do it anyways.”? Well, yes. Feel it. Maybe give it the middle finger. Then, do what you want anyways because no one tells you what to do. Not even you.

Doubt from Environment — Some of the most well-intentioned people in your environment can create the most doubt in association with your idea. “Innocently toxic”, as Olivia coined. So how do we handle our environment?

Choose your own support system – when you decide to pursue your passion, consider the people in your life who naturally fall in line to support this. Those are your people. You don’t have to cut anyone out per se, but pick and choose where you spend your time.

Understand what they don’t know – they base their opinions from information they’ve collected along their own life path. It’s not your job to explain anything away for them. That will only siphon your energy. Rather, just know that they don’t know. And move on.

Obstacles and Challenges — The word is… SETBACK. There are always setbacks. We have setbacks in tasks that we didn’t even choose for ourselves. Why wouldn’t they exist in tasks that we did choose? You’ll notice Olivia and I laughing during this part of the FB Live (around 2m:50s). It’s because we had the setback of technical difficulties, which led to us losing our entire audience. She and I could’ve easily gotten discouraged and said ‘screw it’ for the day. Instead, we made some adjustments in our technology and tried again. Did it produce perfect results? No. We lost our audience and to be honest, the first recording was a bit funnier. BUT… it did produce a video, which led to this blog post, which is reaching a few thousand people right now. Done is better than perfect. Setbacks are no reason to stop your pursuit to what you want to accomplish. If they make you feel doubtful, recognize it for what it is, and then do it anyways. Plow through.

I’ve been known to say that doubt is a hologram.

What I mean by this: It’s power is only in its illusion. Once you walk right through it, you see that there was never anything to truly fear on the other side. Doubt is the Wizard of Oz. You need only pull back the curtain.

They say that if a person passed herself on the street that she would view herself as a stranger. The theory is that our own image in real life is unrecognizable to us; we’ve only seen our face on flat photographs, through the lenses of a camera, and in mirrors. An ironic side note that I’d like to make: it’s also been said that our soulmates are the mirrors in our lives.

I’ve spent half second increments of time bargaining with God.

Maybe we could have you back and I’d promise not to ever speak to you. You could just be the kids’ dad.

Maybe you could come back just for one conversation on what I’m supposed to do in my life without you.

These ideas intrude my mind, and I brush them away like mosquitos. Blood sucking. Useless. Irritating. I know that these thoughts are impossible requests, and it angers me that they creep in from time to time. It feels cruel.

That being said though… Considering all of what I just spoke on, I wonder if you came back, would you even recognize me?

You see, two years ago I was stripped bare. A tree. Shaved of all leaves. All branches. Shaved of all bark. Left to die.

As this dying tree sat there (to some, already dead), she had few choices…

The tree could say it was good while it lasted and give up.

Or.

Look to its own sap filled insides, now exposed to the elements, without bark and know there’s not much time. She could take a deep breath but had no leaves with which to inhale. Maybe ask the Sun for help, but she had no branches with which to reach.

So she remembered that she still had roots. She turned herself upside down, reached for a knife and carved herself into something useful.

I’ve spent the last two years uprooting myself and carving me into something of use to this world. That’s all I can think to do if I’m going to be here without you.

I reflect on my past life. I remember someone so scared of so many forces outside of herself, and I remember the person consistently loving me through those fears. I think of us, making our way out onto the patio to analyze under the stars and plan our life. I think of the beautiful soul that was beyond this world. A soul I knew so well then and understand so much more now. It took your death to show me the depths of how truly enlightened you were.

Regardless of what I knew then or what I know now, one thing is positive.

I carry you with me.

Sophie came to me last weekend. She cried, “I miss the memories.”

I thought she meant that she missed making memories with you. She went on further, “It’s not just that I miss Dad. I miss the memories of Dad. I’m losing them.” My heart ached, but then I realized it in that very moment. We carry you.

“I know, honey, it’s hard when we feel those memories slipping from us. Write them down while you still have them. Old-woman-Sophie will appreciate it.”

“Ok…” Her tiny voice quivered.

I grabbed both of her cheeks to look into her eyes, “We will never forget Daddy. Daddy’s presence is so strong both surrounding us and within us.”

“That’s for sure.” She said, with a clear tone.

“We will miss him every day, for every event. We will miss his laugh and his smile. We miss the memories that fog within our minds, but Daddy is so much more than those things. We carry him everywhere.”

“Yes.”

She and I hugged and cried on and off for the afternoon, but we both knew a single truth: You have been absorbed into us.

It’s because of this, I’ve had the strength to change. Thank you for being my motivational speaker. Thank you for stepping out of work to call me because you got a text that said:

I need a Scotty pep talk.

You don’t know the thousands of times I’ve wanted to text you during these last two years… To need the comfort of your husband over his own death is a duality that few will ever know. Just a bare tree…yearning for your comfort before realizing that you are absorbed into my roots.

It hasn’t been pretty. It’s been ugly.

But it’s been necessary; while I’m not sure you’d know who I am any more, I am certain that I will always recognize you. Like the Maya Angelou quote says:

On our third date, Scott and I had a long conversation about where “this” was going. We talked about what we wanted for the future, and I remember my neurotic tendencies enveloping it all. Finally, Scott grabbed my hands, looked me in the eyes, and said, “You’re gonna be my girl.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I smiled. Looking into his eyes, I felt the sincerity emanate from him. This was it. I was his. He was mine.

What neither of us realized then is that we don’t get to keep people. They are lent to us for an undetermined period of time. . As much as we can “claim” someone on this earth. The truth is that nothing truly belongs to us. The only things we possess of our own are thoughts, feelings, and spirit.

This is something that I quickly realized after having my oldest daughter. Holding her in the hospital and again, looking into her curious eyes, I knew. She wasn’t mine. She was my DNA. Her title in this life would be my daughter, but my responsibility was only to guide her on the ways of the world. And funny enough, many times now, she’s the one who guides me.

Eventually, she will leave me. She will have a family of her own to tend to, and it will hurt. If I’ve done my job right though, she will flourish on her own. This is my perspective with all of my children. Of course, I would later learn a deeper version of this lesson.

—-

Scott died on the phone with me. Mid sentence. One moment he was “mine”. The next he was “gone”.

I knew, before, that life was short. I went to bed every single night and prayed to God, listing off the things in my life that I was grateful for. I said I love you. A lot. And still, nothing could have ever prepared me for the way my life would literally become the cliche that everything can change in an instant.

I’ve asked “why” often since Scott was taken, and that’s an answer I won’t get in this lifetime. My “why’s” began with desperation, then they were bitter; then they came from a place of deep sadness and defeat… Now, I find myself slowly growing into humility.

Why?

Only He knows.

The answer isn’t for me to understand, but what I’m learning for sure is that people are lent to us. They come into our lives to teach us. They teach us in the literal sense, but moreover, they teach us in their actions and way of being. The relationships we form, both atrocious and Godly, contribute to our growth. They prepare us for something bigger.

And for today anyways, I’m going let go of all possession and to look to bigger things.

When we talked about it a few months ago, it’s not the one that either of us thought we’d be having . I was looking forward to the ‘surprise date’ you were planning for us, and I think of it often… what was it?

What would we be doing right now? This morning?

That, I do know …

You would pop up to the first sound of your phone alarm – set to the song “Lovely Day” by Bill Withers, and I would pull the covers tighter, with my eyes still closed and listen as you opened drawers and selected a shirt from its hanger. On special days like Fridays (or anniversaries), I could hear you dancing or singing as you chose your ensemble. The creaking of the floor boards as you walked back and forth from the bathroom to our bedroom were like an extra blanket to me. Pure comfort.

Then, once your shower was finished, you were dressed and cleaned shaved. You always came and sat at the foot of the bed on my side, tucked into my little nook of blankets and the grumbled mess that I am in the morning. You would sit there, with your socks in your hand, and I would feel you thinking.

That’s when I would open my eyes.

This was our time to discuss plans for the day. See, it was the same thing every weekday morning:

6:45 a.m. Bill Withers’ Lovely Day

6:47a.m. Choose a shirt. Take a shower.

7a.m. Sit by Meg with socks and think.

My mornings are different now. They’re still the exact same replica of the one previous to itself, but the routine, itself, changed overnight. Mornings are difficult for me. You’re probably laughing because they always were, but this isn’t the “hit snooze 12 times” type of difficult.

I wake up every morning, sore from head to toe. The therapist tells me it’s because I’m a person who “internalizes” my emotions. I lay in bed and subconsciously beg God every morning that this isn’t true. Please tell me how to undo this. Immediately, I become angry with myself for even asking that.

Then there’s fear…

How am I going to get our babies and I through the day today? Do I have the strength to get up and make them breakfast? Get them to school?

Usually by this time, one of the kids has woken up, and I’m reminded that there is no questioning. There’s only doing.

And I’m doing my best.

6:45a.m. Lay in bed, awake.

6:47a.m. Pain, begging, fear..

7a.m. Get on with the day.

I know you’d be in awe of the way others have supported us. It makes me sad to know that some of these kind faces will never get the pleasure of hearing your enthusiastic voice. My God, do I miss your voice.

These are the things I miss the most. I miss my morning guy. I miss acting like you annoyed me, when secretly I admired your cheerful disposition and your energy. I’m really pissed at myself for not telling you every second of your beautiful life that I felt this way.

I’m sure our date would’ve been perfect, but it’s not the dates that I miss. It’s things like ordinary mornings and the sound of your voice.

Grief.
Contrary to what I thought prior, it’s not an emotion. It’s a condition. An illness.

I am ‘fine’ for several minutes strung together at a time. I can even carry on a light conversation without losing “it”. Once again, I can do this for several minutes.

Then the wave washes over me.

And that’s when I lose the “it” I mentioned above.

Yesterday, my best friend of over 20 years, Lisa, took me out for the first time since Scott passed away. It was a painting event during the day, and the proceeds went to the American Cancer Society. We even signed a petition while we were there. It was to get a law passed, making it more affordable for everyone to receive the pill form of chemo therapy.

I was nervous about going, but I, like my kids, have “safe” people who are tender in my situation. Lee* is one of these people.

When we were there, I met some of her coworkers. I shook their hands and said “hi”. I was working hard to hide my shattered heart. Mimicking my old ways, I wondered if the act was working or if my face betrayed me. No real way of knowing, I felt it was best to get lost in the art project at hand.

Painting pallets.

The highlight: We were able to beat the crap out of our pallets. They had hammers, mallets, and chains, and safety glasses. It was very official stuff, and I was into it.

So into it, that at one point I realized I was the last person, whaling on my pallet. To say it was a release would be an understatement.

I proceeded to paint my piece of wood, appreciating its knots, experimenting with different colors. Once we were finished with that, the art teacher told us to wait. It needed to dry.

We sat for a few minutes. Waited. We laughed at the spelling error on my stencil.

I waited some more. We all waited.

Then it came.

Your husband is dead.

It, just a thought, a whisper, a reminder from nowhere, washed over me like an ocean filled with the weight of 60 years of memories. Lost.

It struck me so concretely, I spoke aloud, “What the hell?!”

I rushed to the bathroom, locked the door, and stood in the dark and sobbed.

What was happening? I don’t know. I really don’t. Here I was in the dark at 2 o’clock in the afternoon on a Sunday.

Then came something else – a different thought, whisper, reminder…

It’s going to be ok.

I cried more, refusing to accept this.

It’s going to be ok.

It persisted. I was silenced.

I turned the lights on, wiped my tears, and turned them back off. I stood in the dark, holding the handle of the door. You can do this.